


Adventures in Plaid

by HigharollaKockamamie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life, android lifestyles, peaceful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigharollaKockamamie/pseuds/HigharollaKockamamie
Summary: “Okay, I gotta ask. What is it with you guys these days and dressing like Jackson Pollock's garage floor?”Hank and Connor take a walk and talk about how things have changed.





	Adventures in Plaid

On one of the first warm days in April, Hank looked at Connor and said, “You look like Keanu Reeves after fuckin' the guy from the paper towel logo.” 

Connor rolled a sleeve up, folding plaid on plaid. “It's your shirt, Lieutenant.” 

“What's your point?” 

He still did the little collar-straighten thing, even without a tie.

Hank was getting pretty good at restraint. They'd been walking down the street for a good two minutes before he said, “Y'know, we coulda just done this at home.” 

“It wouldn't be right,” said Connor. “These kinds of illicit things have to be done in a seedy motel room.” 

Hank couldn't argue with that part. “You've done it plenty before, anyway.” 

“Yes, but that was when I had higher orders that took priority.”

“Is there a reason we have to walk there?”

“It's a nice day.” 

Wouldn't you know it. The bastard was right. 

Just walking down the street was an experience nowadays. Hank hadn't known how used he was to seeing android uniforms around until they were gone. Now, with LEDs optional, there weren't a lot of ways of telling who was what for sure, besides recognizing models you saw a lot. They were settling into their own kind of style, though. 

“Okay, I gotta ask. What is it with you guys these days and dressing like Jackson Pollock's garage floor?” 

Connor's eyes followed a pair of PL600s across the street who wearing shirts with the kind of pattern that made your brain twinge. “Complex visual patterns are appealing to android visual processing.” 

“Do they gotta be neon orange?” 

“Not necessarily.” Connor had dropped the coin-flicking thing and picked up a habit where he hummed sometimes. It was half fucking annoying and half fucking cute. “CyberLife's design philosophy had a restricted color palette. Bright colors weren't part of the selection.” 

“So you're making up for lost time.” 

“In a way, yes.” Connor's eyes slid over to him. “And you may be throwing stones from a glass house, Lieutenant.” 

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with paisley.” 

There were a fair amount of people downtown, all taking the chance to get out on one of the first decent days of spring. Hank entertained himself trying to figure out who they passed by was human and who was android. No points for the one standing in front of a shop window changing the tattoos on his face, making different patterns flicker on and off on his cheek. 

“It's a downloadable texture package,” Connor said. “Those and unorthodox hair colors used to only be enabled on certain models.” 

“Huh. More convenient than getting shitfaced and waking up with a permanent one. Not as much fun, though.” 

They took a left into the park. It wasn't the quickest way to get there, but if the android felt like going inefficient, who was Hank to argue? Connor wasn't bad to walk around with, anyway. He wasn't one of those guys who had to run their mouth all the time. He could just look around, pulling in data with those big brown eyes, being company. 

Besides all the people walking dogs or just remembering what the sun felt like, there was something going on, measured-out words in voices carrying in a way they didn't when people were talking normal. Turned out it was some kind of rehearsal. Some people were scattered around watching a guy dressed up in a business suit with an LED on his forehead talking to a guy dressed in an android jumpsuit. 

“Is this a holiday?” the “human” was saying. “What! know you not, being mechanical, you ought not walk upon a laboring day without the sign of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?”

“It's gotta be art,” Hank muttered to Connor. “He said 'thou.'” 

“It's an amalgam,” Connor said, after listening to a few more lines. “They're stitching the pieces of old stories into something new.”

“Hippies,” said Hank. “Look over here, they've even got the jewelry.” 

A guy with an LED had a card table set up under a tree, spread with the kind of stuff that looked handmade. Earrings, bracelets, rings. A lot of different kinds, but they all had the same motif going on. 

“What's with the two-color thing?” Hank said. 

Connor had his hands in his pants pockets. He still looked weird doing casual gestures, like a calculus teacher sitting on his desk and telling you to call him by his first name, but they made him happy. “What do you think, Lieutenant?” 

“I'm off the clock, I'm not figuring out shit.” He squinted at the rocks. Blue on one side, green on the other. “Y'see a lot of these on androids. Some kinda fad.”

“Where have you seen that combination before?” 

Hank fiddled with a necklace for a minute before it clicked in his head. “Markus. His eyes have that David Bowie thing going on.” 

Connor beamed and squeezed his hand like a 17-year-old girl, which was a dirty trick, since it made Hank go gooey like a 16-year-old girl. “Exactly.” 

“Huh.” Hank watched a couple of women walk by, both in shirts that went low over one shoulder. “Is that why you guys are into the lopsided thing? Like his girl.” 

“Asymmetry is appealing, yes.” Connor gave him a reproachful look. “And her name is North.” 

“Funny name.” They kept on walking, heading out now to the seedier side of the neighborhood. “Hell, I guess humans can't judge. I once booked a guy named Medallion.” 

“It's not on the list of standard CyberLife names, so she must have been given it by a human or chosen it herself after she deviated. A lot of androids are doing that, now. They take names of people they admire, or concepts they value, or just words with an interesting sound. Characters, too; there are several registered as Daneel Olivaw.” 

“Tell me there's not any AMs.”

Connor shot him a tight-lipped smile. “Not yet.” 

The street they were on was pretty rundown. Graffiti, some boarded-up windows, the real untrustworthy kind of hot dog cart. It felt like home. A lady on the other side of the street had on a tank top that showed tanned skin on one side and white plastic on the other, with gold bracelets jangling on the bare arm. No accounting for fashion. 

“Funny thing,” Hank mused. He sauntered along, pushing an idea around in his head. He'd always been better at thinking when he was on the move. “Some of you hide you're not human, some of you show it off. You go around breaking all the rules you used to have to keep. I bet there'd be plenty of people around if we were here at two a.m., since you guys hang around in the middle of the night. You give yourself weird names. You have celebrities you like to look like. You wear weird clothes and weird hair, and you get tattoos. You do all sorts of crazy shit to figure out your freedom and try to make the world take notice.” 

Connor was looking down at the sidewalk, wistful, like he wished he could explain it. “It may be something only androids understand.” 

When it all clicked into place Hank laughed loud enough to make Connor's LED blink. “Shit, I know what you are. You're a pack of fuckin' teenagers.” 

Connor smiled in that way that could make a damn piece of titanium melt. A regular old human being didn't stand a chance. “You know, I suppose we are.” 

Hank grabbed his hand and turned them toward the kind of shitty hotel with hourly rates. “C'mon, let's go do something kinky.” 

Going up to a counter and booking a room with a cute twink next to him was fun all on its own. 

They went up the concrete stairs, locked the door, and closed the curtains. Hank sat down on the bed, glad he didn't have any robot-vision that'd tell him more about the sheets than he wanted to know. He was excited because he could tell Connor was. You could pick this stuff up from how he moved. 

“You ready?” Hank said, leaning forward. 

Connor nodded. “Ready.” 

Hank told him what to do. Turn off the lights, or open the window, or get him a beer. 

Connor stood there with his hands behind his back, wearing a serene, content look, and said, “No.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to chat about puppy-eyed androids, hit me up at [higharollakockamamie.tumblr.com/](https://higharollakockamamie.tumblr.com/).


End file.
